Tag: spacetext

Ooooooh, how about “I thought you were different” for Rhack ;P

Jack wanted to tell Rhys it wasn’t his fault. 

The alpha interrupting him during the meeting had just been pissing him off so much. Jack figured it was time to teach the mouthy asshole a lesson. He hadn’t expected Rhys to try to step in and break it up, he’d expected his omega to stay back and watch, approving or not, as Jack took care of whatever problem was setting him off in the first place. But Rhys had been trying, lately, to draw him back from his bloodthirsty urges, to keep him contained and calm, and Jack should have anticipated him trying to stop the bloodshed. Or at least prevent Jack from causing another scandal. 

But it all happens too fast, and before Jack can catch his hand and realize the determined brown and blue eyes are nothing like the wan grey ones of the alpha Rhys is laying out on the floor, face petrified in shock as four thick lines of blood scour dow his cheek. 

Jack’s heart freezes in his chest, vision growing clearer without the haze of anger no matter how badly he might want to roll back and black out and not face what he’s done. The room is still around him, quiet, so unlike when Jack usually puts someone in their place and all the bystanders try to curry his favor and agree that such punishing wrath was well-earned, and for once Jack wants their sycophantic words though now, least of all, is when he actually deserves them. 

With no one else to break the silence Jack realizes he must fill the space, be first to speak, but he can barely muster a despaired croak. 

He wanted to tell Rhys that it was just a mistake, that he would never dream of hurting him, but the words stick in his throat and by the time he manages to clear it Rhys is already speaking, the look in his eyes already changed from shock to hurt and deep, bottomless betrayal. 

“I thought you were different…”

“Are you going to rip my heart out again?” for Rhack? :3

sorry these are drabbles and i changed the wording a bit 😦

Jack knows that Rhys is going to try to stop him—he just doesn’t understand that Jack can’t let that last humiliation lie. Staying home means letting those bandits win, and he can’t stand the thought, even if he’d barely escaped the last encounter with his life.

Still, he doesn’t resist when Rhys grabs him by the wrist, eyes wide and disbelieving and angry, with force behind his fingers Jack’s never felt before. It takes him a moment to realize he’s using his cybernetic hand, warm metal digits digging into the flesh just above Jack’s tattoo.

“You can’t do this.” Rhys’ voice shakes with the effort of breathing, trying to steady the pace of his heart as it sends bells of alarm through his body. “This is stupid. This is suicide.”

And he’s right, probably, but to Jack taking down the bastards standing in the way is worth the risk of death—after all, is any action really heroic without something valuable on the line?

“This is the only way to make sure they learn their lesson,” Jack growls, tendons in his wrist flexing underneath Rhys’ fingers, but he only squeezes tighter. It almost hurts, stinging up Jack’s arm into injuries not quite healed. Like his body’s trying to get him to listen to Rhys, but he won’t let it convince him.

Rhys’ next tearful, shaking plea almost does, though.

“Do you want to rip my heart out again?”

“I don’t know who to trust anymore.” or “There’s got to be a way out of this… I just can’t find it.” You’re pick on characters =3.

hurt rhys is always inspiring even when i feel down 

At the bottom of the cell where they’d been tossed like pieces of trash, Jack can’t help but feel small.

The foot of the barred door is just out of his reach when he presses himself up against the smooth walls and stands on the very tips of his toes, arm stretched out so far he can feel the tendon in his shoulder pull. It hurts, tension smarting through his body in a painful reminder of his injuries, but he’d got off fairly light all told.

“C’mon…” He grits his teeth, straining before trying to jump and grab onto the ledge peeking out from beneath the door. He misses, nails scraping uselessly against the wall as his feet slam back against the ground. Pain zings up to his hips as he winces, clasping one arm around his body.

“Jack…” A voice behind him rasps for the first time since they’d been tossed down there. Jack puts aside escape for a moment and crouches down besides the man laying at his feet. Rhys had landed badly when he’d hit the ground, arm twisted the wrong way. He’d hit his head hard enough to scrape a fresh wound against his temple, and even though he’s awake now the fogginess in Rhys’ eyes has Jack worried.

“It’s gonna be all right, kitten.” Jack’s hand brushes against his assistant’s cheek, unwilling to move his head and risk worsening any invisible injuries. “There’s gotta be a way out of this…I just gotta find it. You just lie down and work on staying conscious.”

“Mm…kay.” Rhys eyelids flutter wider like he’s genuinely trying, but a wince of pain has him closing them a moment later as he hisses. Blood from his head-wound bubbles and drips down over his eyebrow towards the bridge of his nose. Jack wonders if he should try to staunch it with his sleeve, if its worse the risk of infection. This cell is grimy as all hell, anyway.

“Don’t worry…” Jack murmurs over Rhys, carefully caressing the warmth still in his lover’s cheeks, “It’s gonna be okay. I promise. You’re gonna be all right.”

Rhys doesn’t respond this time, though his eyes open a sliver enough that Jack feels he can move away and return to figuring out their exact plan. His nails are split, some bleeding slightly from his last attempt, but from the dark spots of blood against the wall he can see he was only a few inches off from grabbing the ledge.

Jack crouches, muscles in his legs tensing. He fixes his eye on the bottom of the door, tip of his tongue licking his lips. This time for sure, he’ll get up there and get them out of here.

And then these guys are gonna pay for what they did to Rhys.

im sorry if youve sent in a drabble and i havent been able to get to it. i know i reblog a lot of memes and i really want to do them all but sometimes i just reblog those in hope ill get an idea that really sparks me but sometimes it doesnt happen….i feel really bad im not as productive rn and i hope no one feels im ignoring their request

this drabble was supposed to be an answer to one of the angst prompts but it didn’t end up really fulfilling is so….yeah

sorry it blows

Jack had never been good at apologies.

Really, when one was the actual king of a good portion of the universe, apologies seemed a little beneath him. But pride and power didn’t erase the sting he felt in the aftermath of a fight with Rhys, where even the ruler of Hyperion found himself banished to the couch with the bedroom door slammed in his face.

The impatient beat of his heart hated that he needed to give Rhys time to cool off, and though he wished he could rip that door open and force some forgiveness between them he didn’t, instead moving to the kitchen and trying to recall the recipe for banana bread he knew Rhys liked best. The kind with coffee mixed in for the extra little kick in the morning.

Jack was bad at apologies.

He mashed the browning bananas into goop, whipping them together with wet ingredients, then slid it all into the flour. He licked a bit of batter off his thumb, the bitter taste of coffee edging into the sweetness. He felt the heat of the oven against his hip as he opened the door and popped the filled bread tins inside.

Jack set the timer on his watch and rested back against the counter, staring at the digital numbers counting down.

He frikkin’ sucked at apologizing.

But Rhys deserved he try. He was probably the only one who deserved it.

Jack shuffled out of the kitchen and through the living room until he stood before the bedroom door, clenched hand lifted hesitantly before the sleek wood. He swallowed, annoyed by the tense lump in his throat.

He’d finally worked up the courage to knock when the door suddenly clicked, knob turning as it opened outwards. Jack’s eyes widened as Rhys’ met his from inside the dim bedroom lighting, both their mouths opening at the same time as they spoke over each other’s words.

“Rhysie, I’m sorry I—“

“—You making something?”

They both stopped, each waiting for the other to continue but they only shuffled awkwardly. Rhys rubbed the hem of the blanket draped about his shoulder. Jack coughed and shifted his weight on his heels.

“It’s your favorite,” he finally answered, “I just thought…you know, those bananas were gonna go bad. Figured it’d be a good idea.”

“Uh-huh.” Rhys swallowed. “Smells really nice. I’m pretty hungry…haven’t eaten in a bit…”

Jack’s stomach growled in agreement. Right. He hadn’t eaten much either. He glanced at the timer on his watch. Five more minutes.

“There’s a bit more time before it’ll be ready…wanna hang on the couch? Or would you rather hole up in bed a little more?” Jack tried some light teasing and, thankfully, Rhys’ smiled.

“Think I’ve got my fill of that for today…if you don’t mind…” Rhys leaned in a little closer, until Jack closed the distance and loosely wrapped his arms around his waist.

The tightness in Jack’s ribs properly  started to unwind as soon as Rhys returned the hug.

Also I’m tired of people making excuses for customers. I’ve had so many bad, stressful, and frustrating days and yet I can’t think of a single time I’ve ever yelled at someone working in food or retail.

Quit acting like this is normal or okay!!

Like. Kudos for using less waste but actually put your money where your mouth is and don’t use it as an excuse to harass someone working for a company they don’t even like so they can keep their mental ill ass afloat thanks!!